


Red, White, and Schitt

by MeadowHarvest



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Gen, Jocelyn Wrote A Musical, M/M, Theatre, waiting for guffman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeadowHarvest/pseuds/MeadowHarvest
Summary: The community theater players of Schitt's Creek celebrate the town's quasquicentennial anniversary with an original musical called "Red, White, and Schitt" and David Rose is in the audience.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 21
Kudos: 64
Collections: Reel Schitt's Creek Prompt Fest





	Red, White, and Schitt

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [ICMezzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICMezzo/pseuds/ICMezzo) in the [Reel_Schitts_Creek](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Reel_Schitts_Creek) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> For Schitt’s Creek’s sesquicentennial, the town puts on the musical revue “Red, White, and Schitt.”

**Prologue**

Everyone in Schitt’s Creek is fiercely defensive of their little town- yes, even hard-sided people like Ronnie Lee and Stevie Budd will be the first to jump in and defend it against any maligning. 

It’s one of Patrick Brewer’s favorite things about the town, so it’s not a surprise when Jocelyn Schitt announces one day at the quarterly meeting of the community theater group that for the summer show, she’s written an original production to celebrate the quasquicentennial anniversary of the founding of the town. 

  
“A what now?” asks Bob, who is one of the group’s most enthusiastic members.  
  
“The 125th anniversary,” says Jocelyn, grin widening as she holds up a script. “And, it’s a musical!” 

Patrick can read the title when she holds the script still for a moment. 

“Red, White and Schitt?” he can’t help but say aloud. Next to him, Stevie snickers. 

“Yes! It’s celebrating this little corner of Canada, and the fact that if it weren’t for Horace Schitt, none of us would be here! Well, we might be here, but not here-here,” says Jocelyn, still brandishing the script. “I wanted to do the town justice and wrote it from an insider’s point of view. Being a Schitt is not always easy, but, oh, I feel like one of the Kennedys!”

Roland Schitt sits up a little straighter. "I can't wait to talk about this at the next mayors' conference!" he says.

Jocelyn's grin is infectious as she doles out the sides for auditions for the following week.

“I need to read the whole script. I don’t know how she’s going to fill up a whole show,” Stevie says to Patrick as they wait for their sides. “Nothing ever happens in Schitt’s Creek.”

  
  


********

**It’s the Day of the Show, Y’all**

  
The house lights go down and the sounds of the crowd lessen. David shifts in his seat. He hasn’t heard much from Patrick about the production, or from Stevie, for that matter, and she’s always very vocal about the ins and outs of the rehearsals, especially when she’s got some booze in her. All David has heard from Patrick is the show’s appalling name, and the fact that everyone plays multiple roles. 

Next to him are two empty seats with “Reserved!” signs on them. David glances at them and sighs, rolling his eyes at the fact that some things never change. 

The pianist plays the opening notes, and a little frisson of excitement rushes up David’s spine, because a theater performance is a theater performance.

The curtain opens on Bob, dressed in overalls and flannel, looking every inch a pioneer. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you sneak up on me!” he says, trotting over to the campfire over on stage right. David’s not impressed by the fake flames, but then again, he thinks all faux fire features are tacky.  
  


Bob settles down on a wooden log. “I thought I’d tell you a tale, a tale of history. Schitt history! Pull up a log and lend your ear, for I’m going to tell you the tale of Schitt’s Creek,” he says, and David suddenly can’t help smiling in anticipation. 

Bob continues, “It starts in 1895… that’s a hundred and twenty-five years ago! A little wagon train stopped at a creek. Now, it didn’t look like much of a creek, but well, some might say that creek changed lives…”

The curtains part on a tableau centered around Roland, dressed in period garb. David’s smile widens as he sees Patrick and Stevie in full costume, frozen in place beside Ray, Ronnie and Twyla.

“Now, old Doc Schitt had planned on leading the wagon train, but his chilblains meant he had to stay put in Ottawa, so his son had to rise to the occasion. His name? Horace Schitt,” says Bob, beckoning to the stage. 

“Let us stop and water the horses,” says Roland, clearing his throat and delivering the line a little stiltedly, in David’s (semi-) professional opinion.  
  
“Good idea, Horace,” says Stevie, grimacing a little, and fluffing up her leg-o-mutton sleeves. “The women and children need rest, too.” 

“This seems like a mighty fine piece of God’s green earth,” says Roland, hooking his thumbs under his vest and looking around the stage. David feels like this is a bit of a stretch, but he’s willing to buy into the suspension of disbelief. Lord knows how many times he’s had to practice that around his mother. “Perhaps we should stay!”

“Gosh, Horace, maybe you’re right. I knew Papa put you in charge for a reason. You sure are rising to the occasion,” says Stevie. “But we must be cautious, because the creek is rising, too!”

That seems to be a musical cue, because Roland clears his throat again, and turns to face the audience as the pianist starts to play.  
  


_I must decide where to stay, live up to my papa’s words_

_I see the bright pretty flowers, hear the songs of the birds_

_The grass is green and the sun’s in the sky_

_The creek is rising (and so am I)_

_It’s a place where we can get fresh water_

_Make a life for our sons and our daughters_

_Who knew Horace Schitt could be so wise?_

_The creek is rising (and so am I)_

_Our town will welcome each missus and mister_

_I’ll even reach out and help out my sister_

_My pants are tightening against my thighs,_

_The creek is rising (and so am I)_

David’s slightly confused by the choreography, because during the song, Stevie bends down to ostensibly scoop some water in a pail and Roland comes up behind her, but then Patrick and Ray cross in front (downstage, David thinks) and someone who looks like Jocelyn shuffles in front of Stevie to take her place, in an identical costume. David’s confused until Ray and Patrick move to reveal Roland holding onto Jocelyn’s hips as she bends before him.

It’s not the best body swap David has seen (and he has seen plenty), but he understands why Stevie wouldn’t want to do the scene. He can almost overlook it until Jocelyn turns to kiss her “brother” amidst the audience’s applause. The curtain closes and lights illuminate Bob.

“Hoo, boy, this town got to a-growin’ and a-changin’, and not but twenty years had gone by, but the boys of Schitt’s Creek were preparin’ to go off to the Great War. One of those boys? Horace’s boy Holden Schitt.”

David stifles a delighted gasp as the curtain opens again, revealing Patrick in a soldier’s uniform, holding Stevie’s hand. She looks uncomfortable in her full long skirt and sailor middy, but David makes a mental note to tell her how cute that look is for her, that cinched waist and blouson top.

“Gosh, Lotta, I sure am going to miss you,” says Patrick, clasping Stevie’s hands and doing a decent job of looking besotted with a woman. 

“I’ll miss you too, Holden. But you’ve got to come back safe and sound, so you can keep your promise,” says Stevie, trying to look chaste and sweet.

“Oh, the minute I’m back, you’ll be Mrs. Lotta Schitt,” says Patrick. He turns to Stevie and gets down on one knee as the music swells into a slow, sweet ballad.

_Promise me you’ll keep the home fires burning_

_While around my big gun my fists clench_

_For you I can’t help but yearning_

_And keep those boys out of your trench._

Stevie kneels beside him and sings. 

_I’ll be fine, no need to worry_

_I’ll let no one else sit upon my bench_

_But please come home in a hurry_

_And keep those boys out of your trench_

Their lips meet in a sweet kiss, and David is moved, even though he’s puzzled by the lyrics and wonders if Jocelyn actually listened to them when she was writing them. 

Bob speaks again as the curtain closes across David’s husband and best friends locked in a kiss that neither looked thrilled about.

“Holden came home safe and sound, and soon there were many little Schitts running around town! You might say it was a Schitt boom. The population grew and grew, and the town grew with it. Why, Bob’s Garage opened in 1943!” says Bob, giving a huge wink, and David is disappointed at the audience for laughing at it. 

“And in 1947, in the old Markham’s Millinery building, opened the town’s first cafe… with a tropical flair!”

David watches the curtains part as the pianist thumps out a rhumba beat as Twyla and the rest whirl onstage in cute, kicky 1940s outfits. The whole cast sings and starts to swing dance.

_Dig that crazy cafe!_

_All you cool cats!_

_You can some real good food_

_And there are no rats!_

_Oh dig, dig dig through the menu_

_Nine pages full of yummies_

_Take a long glance and then you’ll_

_Dig in and fill your tummies_

Twyla takes center stage and holds up a menu to sing her solo, but David’s distracted, watching Ray dip Stevie, and Patrick dip Ronnie. Neither woman looks thrilled, and both men look nervous. David doesn’t blame them one bit; he wouldn’t care to drop either Stevie or Ronnie for many reasons. 

_We’ve got classic burgers and french fries_

_Pineapple milkshakes and peach pies_

_Tropical burritos and ahi_

_Onion rings and calamari!_

David wonders if the rest of the song will just be Twyla listing off menu items, because now he’s getting hungry and wishes there was a rule that if you mentioned food during a play, you had to provide it to the audience.

It’s intermission, but David knows better than to fight the crowds to get a spot in the restroom, or to buy some overpriced baked good, even though he’s hungry after that last song. He had very smartly negotiated with the bake sale lady (Bob’s wife. Jen? Winnie?) to sell him some cookies before the show.

He munches them and pulls out his phone to see a text from Stevie asking, _are they there yet?_

He texts back, _nope, chairs still empty._

_Thank god_ is her reply as the house lights flash. 

_Why?_ he answers, but hears nothing back.

The house lights dim, and Bob trots out again. “Before you know it, it’s the swinging ‘60s, and Maureen Budd sets out to prove everyone wrong, and gains a successful business along the way!”

David hides a smile as the curtain reveals a backdrop showing the motel, and Stevie, wearing a gorgeous lime A-line dress and go-go boots. Then Patrick enters, wheeling a wooden cutout of a motorcycle and wearing a leather jacket- David’s leather jacket, to be precise. David shifts in his seat, slightly uncomfortable at his body’s immediate reaction to the sight (the husband in the jacket, not the terrible bike prop).

“I’m leavin’ you, Maureen, and you can keep this dump. Who’d ever want to stay in a motor lodge anyway? I’m right, and you’re wrong, and everyone knows it. So long, Maureen!” says Patrick, sounding like a background artist from Grease, but David doesn’t even care that much, because leather.

Stevie takes a deep breath as the music starts. 

_It’s not a motor lodge, it’s a motor hotel_

_And you can get outta Dodge, you ne’er-do-well_

_I’m still here and you’re going to hell!_

_Because I’ve got my mo-tel!_

_It’s state of the art, with refrigerated air_

_And push-button phones so it’s like you’re already there_

_Televisions in the rooms and pillows and doors_

_What more could you want? What more????_

The audience erupts into applause, and David joins in wholeheartedly because she’s amazing and the surprise of seeing the motel actually gives him a little lump in his throat. It goes away pretty quickly, though, when his applauding is interrupted by two figures squeezing past him to sit in the reserved seats.

“What are you doing? It’s almost over!” he hisses at his parents. 

“Darling, we couldn’t miss this dramaturgical display, and our driver was not familiar with the area,” his mother stage whispers (her favorite kind!).

“Shhh!” David hisses as Bob clears his throat. 

“The years went by and things were pretty quiet, until Mayor Roland Schitt welcomed some very special newcomers to the town…”

The words don’t register in David’s brain until the curtain opens and he gasps. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the owners of the town,” says Roland, presumably playing himself. 

That’s not the startling part. It’s not Stevie, head to toe in black and white, wearing a wig, and clinging to Ray’s arm. It’s not Ray in a suit, looking quite dapper, actually, and flanked by Twyla in a 2014 Isabel Marant, which is actually a very cute look on her.

The most startling part of the whole tableau is David’s own husband, wearing one of David’s own sweaters, his hair pompadoured high, and looking everywhere but at David himself. 

David is jolted out of his shock by Stevie, who’s looking out into the audience, her gaze fixated next to him and looking ashen. _Fuck_ , he can read her mouthing, and now he realizes why she wanted to know if his parents were here yet. 

“Sorry to hear about your misfortune, or should I say, missing fortune,” says Roland, and David bristles because too soon?

Ray clears his throat. “Thank you, Roland. You might say we’re…”

_Up Schitt’s Creek, without a paddle_

_We put our trust in a crook_

_And we lost that battle_

_And fell sinker, line and hook_

Twyla-as-Alexis swans down center to join him. 

_Up Schitt’s Creek, without a paddle_

_We’d all gotten dumped_

_Getting back in the saddle_

_And now we’re all pumped_

Stevie’s still pale and looks like she’s going to puke. Her voice wavers, but it’s still a passable version of his mom’s voice, and David’s impressed.

_Up Schitt’s Creek, without a paddle_

_Though this hamlet is pleasant_

_I’d choose to skedaddle_

_Rather than live like a peasant_

David doesn’t realize he’s biting his nails until it’s Patrick’s turn. He feels like he’s in a weird alternate world as his husband starts to sing.

_Up Schitt’s Creek, without a paddle_

_It was hard to adjust_

_Two worlds we did straddle_

_But now this life is a must_

The music continues as Bob stands up to speak over it.

“The Roses made their place in town, and their family even grew, and so did the town.” 

The music swells as Ronnie joins the rest, dressed in a blue button-down shirt tucked into jeans. She links arms with Patrick, looking grim as Bob continues.

“You might say that everything was coming up Roses. And they’ve made the town better, and you might say that we’re all in this big old boat of life together.”

The music crescendos as everyone lines up to sing.

_We’re up Schitt’s Creek and we don’t need a paddle_

_We’re all here together and we’ll never truly part_

_It may not be Portland, Toronto or Seattle_

_But we live in Schitt’s Creek and Schitt’s Creek lives in our hearts_

Balloons fall from the ceiling as the audience erupts in applause. David finds himself on his feet, cheering. He doesn’t even mind the lump in his throat because though he usually can’t stand self-referential things that teeter on emotional manipulation, he realizes how much he loves this ridiculous place and that it really is home, and he rolls his eyes at himself for being such a cliche before wrapping his arms around Patrick and Stevie and feeling even more at home.

**Author's Note:**

> I claimed this late in the game so didn't have as much time as I'd have liked to really dive deep. 
> 
> I loved the opportunity to immerse myself into one of my favorite movies again, so thanks for the prompt, ICMezzo!


End file.
